The boy.
I see him, love him and care for him.
But what dose he think about?
Tomorrow?
I don't I think about yesterday how it was perfect.
Oh so happy, the pair of lovers.
But it isn't so black and white.
You see, I have grown and lived.
He's blind with no observation.
How can that be?
Do you not understand?
No. I guess not.
You have also grown. Grown very closed.
Very much inside the box.
